


Conflagration

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [83]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, BAMF Hermione Granger, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pyromaniac Hermione, pyrokinetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Harri pressed a chaste kiss into Hermione’s hair, the scent of char and flame so intense that it burned.“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll leave. Anywhere you want to go, we’ll be there.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: One-Shot [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429282
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Conflagration

**Author's Note:**

> unedited

Rippling flame rode up the flat of her arm and twisted, alive, at her elbow. From her fingertips there rose great leaping things, animals made of wroth and incandescent fury. Her right arm caught next and then exploded outwards, palm directing the mayhem until, like twin torches, the flame converged upon her father. His beard caught, his flesh melted.

Fat bubbled and popped, spitting back the terror of a candle that she could not extinguish.

Her mother erupted next, primarily due to her proximity to her father and through no direct adjustment of her own. One second she was screaming profanities, hymns and layered dogma. The next her dress was alight with heat and movement, then her hair, her eyes puddling and boiling while she screamed.

The echo pounded through Hermione’s head. Her rescuers said that she was lucky to be alive, lucky to crawl out an already opened window. There was nothing she could have done, they said, bundling her in blankets to protect against the abnormal chill that blanketed the town.

Their ignorance was a lie. Their ignorance was a lie, and she knew the truth, _and she could not let it out._ She could have stopped their anguish, their _pain;_ she could have reeled in that power floating beneath the surface of her skin. 

But she hadn’t, and now they were both ashes scattered to the wind. Hermione wasn’t certain how to feel. On the other hand, she knew exactly how to feel. She knew they’d earned it, deserved it even. She knew what they’d withheld from her, the envelope with fluid script spelling out her name and that of a fantastical school. It held a letter she hadn’t been allowed to see, and now it had burned up within the flames. She could not recreate it, and she could not pin the name to anywhere real.

The look in her father’s eyes had been maddening as he decried her, his only daughter, as a heathen; she was a creature without name nor love for God Almighty. She was a seer for a false god. She was a false prophet.

_She was a witch._

She remembered the stinging pain of his belt against her back. She remembered the look in his eyes when she finally fought against it. She remembered the fire brigade pushing back against the flames that ensconced her childhood home, and she remembered them screaming for her when she bolted for the woods. 

Hermione remembered the hungry flames that had burst forth, unbidden, aggressive protection that may as well have been rage incarnate. 

Hermione remembered, and so she ran.

\---

Harri ducked, bending low beneath the stretching cover of a bramble bush. The plants grew unchecked all around here and were the only reason she chose to stop for the night. Their stinging thorns scratched madly at her face and sides, sought to draw blood against her forearms and neck. A cold wind fell from the east, and she shivered, all her nerves alight while still she forced herself further into the bramble. When she judged the distance far enough away from the nearest clearing, she sighed and let magic creep out to cover cold skin in the thinness of a warming charm.

She was careful, though, delicate in its application. Magic wasn’t safe here. Or, instead, her brand of it wasn’t. There were too many trackers floating through the air overhead, spanning lines of wards rippled thread that searched and pulled at tatters, remnants of specific magic. She had gotten lucky just now, and luck never held out.

 _Apparition_ was a dangerous beast at best, ludicrous and suicidal at its worst. But Harri couldn’t deny it moved fast. It worked, remained relatively untraceable, and she knew none of Voldemort’s enforcers had followed her. Now she could settle down for another lonely night of evading detection only to do it all over again once morning came. She’d point herself towards the rising Sun and walk, ever onwards, trying desperately to finally reach the coast. 

The coast was her ending, a comforting need that she shrouded herself with at night. Far beyond it lay a land where she couldn’t be found, could wander away into the nothing that was the Continent. 

The coast was also blocked from _Apparition,_ _Portkeys,_ and all other manner of magical travel. But the Continent? That was open. _Free._

“Finally free,” Harri murmured, visualising her internal map for the thousandth time. 

She would reach it and escape to a place where Voldemort could never find her, perhaps America, maybe somewhere in Asia. All roads led elsewhere, anywhere but _here._ Scotland would fall within the week, Ireland not long after. She couldn’t be sure that Voldemort would content himself these meagre portions for long. He might want more, and she knew already that he had followers and sympathisers in foreign lands, lands she intended to avoid. She could fall straight from the pan to the fire, but by all the varied Gods, _it would be worth it._ It needed to be, or all the last few years of her life would have been for nought.

“You think too loudly.”

 _“Fuck!”_ Harri screamed, startling so bad she nearly threw her face into the brambles hanging above her.

Beside her lay a young woman wearing the night as her dress, twin orbs of burning orange staring deep into Harri’s emerald green. The sudden appearance forced Harri away and up, the brambles tearing at her shoulders and neck, twisting into her short-cropped hair as she fought for distance. She held a hand out in front of herself as if that would keep the woman away, and Harri shivered when the mysterious figure smiled in response.

Who the hell was she kidding? Harri _knew_ she could hardly cast a warming spell without a wand; managing to fight back against whoever this was would be another manner entirely.

She’d _lose._

The unknown woman reached out towards Harri, her eyes wide as saucers and pleading. “No, wait, don’t go. Please.”

Harri held still, stoppered up and frozen. Whether she was too tired to think straight or losing her mind, she stilled. The inevitable conclusion to all this running was that she would be found, captured, and delivered to Voldemort’s waiting claws. She couldn’t properly defend herself, and the tiring weight of _Apparition_ was beyond her now. 

“Okay.” Harri settled, wary beyond belief but unwilling to turn and run in the face of such an earnest request. “Well, might as well get it on. I’m Harri.”

“Oh,” the girl responded, her brows raised and a smile replacing the frown she’d just worn. “I know.”

Harri was quite certain that there were flames hidden beyond the mysterious woman’s eyes in the fading light.

\---

By the fifth day of travelling with Hermione, Harri was damn near certain that she was as close to _alright_ as anyone could come. The woman was a near marvel with wandless magic, constantly showing off what little she knew, even if she could hardly name it. She’d comb down their bedding with a simple flick of her wrist, her eyes lax and mind wandering. She’d done it thousands of times, Harri thought, and she wondered then just _why_ she’d needed to. She hadn’t asked Hermione anything substantial yet, nothing much beyond simple pleasantries and inquiries about flora and fauna that were safe to eat. They were both on the run, that much was clear, and neither had news of the outside world. 

Hermione held all the cards in their little partnership; Harri, lacking any way to make up for that except to _ask_ _questions,_ \- _something that she hadn’t initially wanted to do, as getting close to people had always ended poorly over the past seven-odd years_ \- accepted it for what it was. She was used to others playing with a better hand; it wasn’t _that_ out of the ordinary. Hermione was, but only because she, somewhat like Snape, was a natural _Legilimens._ It made sense that she’d come to Harri. With a mind broadcasting all alone in the woods, she’d been the only point of interest for Hermione to anchor herself to. Occlumency hadn’t been Harri’s strong suit, not even after years of intense study. 

“Again, you think too loud,” Hermione said, her words a common refrain between them. Hermione patted Harri’s unkempt head as if that explained everything, her words the single key needed to lock away the roiling thoughts.

Harri rolled onto their bedding for the night and set about trying as hard as she could to weave _Notice-Me-Not_ charms and silencers that would hopefully, _possibly_ keep them safe.

“We’ll need to head off past that river tomorrow,” Harri stated, her task now accomplished. “Should be fun.”

Hermione nodded in response and then laid down, her warmth spreading through them both. They were silent for a time, cuddled against the preternatural chill of the forest air, night encroaching and nothing but bugs and birds for company.

“What’s the spell for floating?” Hermione asked.

Harri glanced over, a question in her eyes and head that was different from what came out.

“You mean levitation? Or floating on like, water, or something similar?”

Hermione shrugged and moved closer. “Either. Both. Are they different? The air is just another fluid or something like that.”

Harri imitated Hermione with a shrug and thought for a minute or more before laying out the differences. The night prior had been just like this, and the nights before as well. For a few moments - _unpredictable in moment or length_ \- Hermione would ask something beyond how she felt, and Harri would answer as best she could. Stumbling through the appropriate response wasn't always easy, but Hermione’s ready help these past few days had pushed her on to try. Most of what Hermione wanted to know was first-year material, all things that Harri had learned years ago, but nothing she had ever mastered; muscle memory, but nothing she was used to teaching.

When they reached the more practical part of Harri’s answer, Hermione copied every motion Harri made with her index finger, face scrunched up in concentration.

“No, no, _Levi_ ** _o_** _sa,_ not _Levio_ ** _sa._** Put all your emphasis on the _‘Oh,’_ and it’ll work out alright.” Harri said.

Her hand went flat again, just barely nudging forward the broad leaf that was set between them. Their space was illuminated against the darkness by a blue flame that threw no heat, one of Hermione’s little tricks. She could conjure it up right away without words or fluid movements, and Harri, again, found herself wondering just _who_ Hermione was.

“You can just ask, you know.” Hermione interrupted, prompting Harri with a quick look as the leaf rose into the air.

Now caught with the question on her mind, Harri gulped and dug into the uncomfortable feeling of deja vu. With closed eyes, Harri started.

“What’s your full name?”

“Hermione Emelia Granger.”

Harri nodded, one eye opened up to look out into the leaves and vines that lay above them. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Hermione answered, shuffling against the dirt and plants, the leaf thrown off to the side.

“Where are you from?”

Hermione’s voice lowered. “Hampstead.”

“Why are you here?”

Harri shifted uncomfortably when silence met her question, and then, screwing up what courage she still had, she turned and faced Hermione. The woman was staring right back at her, a fire deep beneath her eyes. It was muted though, lesser and yet more, a depth of ringing blue flame from the cast off remnants of her spell. The flame sputtered, flared, and then died down again as the seconds ticked on.

“My father tried to kill me when I was eleven. Him, and my mother. A letter came from a place called Hogwarts. It confirmed all his worst fears. I ran, but not before fighting back.” Hermione squirmed as she answered, her voice so low that Harri was straining to hear.

She wasn’t certain if Hermione was being truthful or not, but the undercurrent of pain she’d caught riding those words felt real. She knew right then to stop asking questions like that. For now, at least.

Harri coughed. “So, have you ran into any Snatchers out here?”

Hermione, from darkness now that her blue flame had begun to extinguish itself, snorted. “Oh, yes. I left them all a pile of cinders a few kilometres away from where we met. It’s why I found you in the first place. They pushed me out of my chosen home.”

“Where was that at?” Harri asked, genuinely curious how close they’d come to one another prior to their meeting.

The darkness of night had fully settled, but Harri was certain that Hermione was smiling when she answered.

“I’d dug myself a little space beneath an old oak tree. Some critter or another had already been there first, so I just improved on it until I had enough room. I could stretch and stand, and I figured out a way to hollow out a portion of the tree above the den. Then I could light a fire and be reasonably certain I wouldn’t end up dying of smoke inhalation. But then those Snatchers showed up, after you, I suppose. Three of them, and a leader who wore a green scarf.”

“Scabior,” Harri snarled, angry all over again at having lost her scarf. The bastard had stolen it not that long ago, and it stung to remember how Mrs Weasley had presented it, seven years ago, to a little girl who’d never had anything new of her own. 

“Him, yeah. They all fanned out, and then one of them found a way in. I’d been gathering food for the winter and didn’t feel him entering right away. He was _blank_. Then it was only when he started talking that I noticed him. I blew him out and the others too. They fought for a little bit, but I’m better than they are, wand or not.” Hermione, again, was smiling.

Harri felt the edges of her lips turn up as well.

“So, so what? You decided to find me after that?” Harri smirked now, ecstatic that they had some sort of secret between them. She rolled onto her side and scooted closer still, the distance between them disappearing. 

Hermione did the same and left little puffs of breath ghosting out across Harri’s cheeks and lips.

“Yeah, after a fashion. I needed some time to decompress after. I didn’t like them, still don’t, but I didn’t want them to, well…” Hermione trailed off, collecting herself before continuing.

“I figured if they were after you, then it was worth finding you. I’d had _my_ home invaded, and I wanted to know _why.”_

Harri, tired and wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, acknowledged that truth with a nod of her head, suddenly disquieted by the thought of Hermione needing to _harm_ those who’d initially been after _her._ She’d done more than her fair share of fighting, but to be dragged into this just because of proximity seemed horrible. 

Rather than address the issue, or ask further questions, Harri leaned in and rested against Hermione, sleeping deep and strong for the first time in ages.

\---

The sight of the shoreline spreading out before them both into a blue infinity, expansive beyond reality, was a sorely welcome justice. Months of travelling through circuitous routes that meandered and wandered, magical forests that extended hundreds of miles farther than Muggles believed, was hard, _horrid_ work. It was all made especially more precipitous of a journey with Voldemort’s hellhounds on her heels, and Harri was beyond words now that her first task had been accomplished. With a whooping holler, she grabbed Hermione’s hand and hauled the woman forward from the treeline, both of them squelching warm, wet sand between their toes. The summer-warmed sprays of salt that fell against her skin was a beautiful reminder that this had been worth it, even if it meant abandoning the life she’d been meant to live.

“Come on, let’s go!” Harri yelled, finally releasing Hermione’s hand so she could jump into the air.

She carried on like that for some minutes, so happy she was at having finally arrived, her mind absorbed within the moment. When her feet sank into the sand, her shins cooled and warmed by the motion of the waves, she relaxed. Arms lay gently against her sides; hands unfurled as she simply stood there. Eyes closed, breathing steady. Salt stung her nostrils, and there was something underneath it, something pungent and organic. It was familiar, and it was foreign, something so much like nature, like _life,_ that she could do nothing more than accept it. She breathed deeper and listened to the surf. There was nothing except crashing water, gentle gulls that floated high above them on soaring risers of hot, humid air.

“Harri.”

The voice led Harri to turn, the sound so small and quiet that for a second, she wasn’t certain she’d heard it at all.

“Sorry,” Harri apologised, her voice rising and near breaking now that she saw Hermione standing all on her own, feet never once having touched the water. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve wanted to reach here, _this,_ for so long. I got carried away. What’s on your mind?”

Hermione turned to face the sky. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere, away from here. Anywhere, everywhere, wherever we want.”

Hermione nodded at that and then shrank in on herself.

“I’d never left Hampstead.” Hermione offered, her eyes now closed and arms wrapped around herself.

Harri tilted her head to the side and approached Hermione, patient and willing to let the woman explain just what she meant.

Hermione nervously swallowed, little blue flames erupting around her head. “I’d never left town, not once. We didn’t have any family elsewhere, and the church was nearby enough we’d walk. They homeschooled me, so no friends either. No one, nothing. Nowhere.”

Harri approached a little further and smiled gently. “Well, now we can go anywhere you want. Anywhere that you can imagine, we can-”

The words fizzled out as a green bolt of lightning struck out for Harri’s head, and it was only timely reflexes honed by years of near-death that saved them both. Another screaming bolt erupted from the treeline, followed by a second, then a third, the spaces behind them now a roiling mass of spellfire. Emerald flames left wands as their attackers coalesced from darkness and hidden spaces. Harri pushed and shouted, told Hermione where to go, where to run. Her retort to the attackers was pitiful at best; a handful of stunners left her palm, the magic willing but unable to escape without the focus of a wand.

It wasn’t much and wouldn’t be enough to save them. A _Protego_ shielded her from some spells, but an _Avada_ would punch right through it. All she could manage was dodging and firing off intermittently; both of them pushed back further and further into the ocean at their backs.

Then everything went mad when Hermione dived out behind Harri’s body, and a single hand raised into the air.

What came next was beautiful and absolutely terrifying. Brilliant red flames leapt up from Hermione’s arm and palm, twin laces of boiling vine that enclosed themselves, exploded into sputtering flame. The fire rose, spread out, dashed out towards the attackers while Harri fell. She was momentarily too stunned to breathe, sheltering herself against the sudden sweltering heat with a shield and water that started steaming. The woman was no longer attempting to protect herself at all; there was a wall of flame that rose before her and swallowed whole every spell set against her. What entered sputtered and fed the conflagration, eaten away by magic far more potent than the attackers could produce.

Hermione’s arm was now fully aloft, and her free hand was directing the flames. Hungry, voracious, they fled from her and consumed the greenery at the point where the forest met the beach. Shapes condensed from it and ran forward; here, a rhinoceros pushed onwards, there a bird of prey swooped low to light the tops of the trees on fire. A serpent with twin heads spewed forth, its tongue licking flesh and clothing into ashes.

The attackers became defenders.

Second after second the heat continued to well up, tremendous and overpowering, descending until even the faintest branches of driftwood were lighting up well away from them. Sparks and embers sought fuel and ignition, kindling and ready access to more. Harri could only watch on, dumbfounded, as her shield fell away and she leaned back further into the water. Screams were starting now, horrific and terrified, and then it was all over.

In a second that felt like an aeon, a swath of the forest ignited all at once, burned to ashes instantaneously as the monstrous animals hit home. The bodies hiding there were gone now, and then a second later there was nothing but an unnatural chill, an absence of pressure or power. 

Harri exploded upwards, the lungful of air she’d kept ahold of now drifting from her lips. She glanced all about, searching for anyone, _anything_ left. 

Only Hermione met her gaze.

The witch turned, and Harri sprinted towards her, held her tight when she reached where Hermione stood. The brunette was crying now, great tears flowing down soot and ash. Her hands were shaking, a mess of red and peeling skin, blisters healing even as they rose. A keening whine was peeling its way out of her throat, and Hermione seemed utterly unaware of it or unaware of herself more likely.

Harri was, in a word, helpless. Torn and amazed, she stood there and tried to keep Hermione together. Holding onto others wasn’t what she was good at; it wasn’t anywhere near her strong suit, but she tried. She held tight onto the Hermione and settled them both into the chilled sand, and bodies pointed out towards the sea.

Harri pressed a chaste kiss into Hermione’s hair, the scent of char and flame so intense that it burned.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll leave. Anywhere you want to go, we’ll be there.”

The woman sitting in her arms shifted and stilled, then rose to look Harri in her eyes. “Let’s go. Across, I mean. Away.”

A small answer, but one that Harri would gladly take.

“Alright,” she replied, pulling back to release Hermione.

Harri stood up once she was empty-handed and wandered back towards the remains of the forest for one last look. She salvaged what wood remained, turned away the charcoal, transfigured it into planks and boards that slowly constituted a small boat. She knew the general shape she needed, and, right now, she was so amped with energy that even wandlessly she could manage it.

Hermione watched as Harri worked, and when the time came to put it to sea, they went, together, opposite the setting Sun.


End file.
